Smellshot, into the shadows
by Opaul
Summary: In 100 words I could say how I loved you but it wouldn't be near enough. And I don't I could fit all that on your tombstone. A series of drabbles all relating to each other in someway. Starting somewhere after the fall of Ba Sing Se to the Firenation.
1. Chapter 1

"Where are you going," She demanded slamming her fist on the table toppling over a glass of milk. I sigh I was hoping toavoid this. This was going to get ugly. "Back to Ba Sing Se." "WHY!" She screamed. I toss a rag over the spilled milk, dabbing it up. "WHY!" she screams again. I gaze back at her, then dig my hand into my pocket. Pulling out a folded piece of paper. I slowly unfold it and hand it to her. "A flyer for a saloon." The flyer had a picture of an old dance hall and a lady in a Can-Can dress on the front. "YOU'RE GOING BACK TO BA SING SE FOR A STUPID SALOON!!!" Smellerbee was raving now. I sighed; I was going to have to tell her the whole story. There was no way I was going to keep her following me now. "That woman in the picture is my mother." The flyer drifts to the floor, as Smellerbee stares at me in wide-eyed disbelief. A gust of angry winds busts in threw the open door and windows like some kind of avenging spirit leaving us in noisy silence.


	2. Afraid

"I'm afraid of losing you." She smiled weakly staring down at her hands. Late winter breezes whisk forcefully past stinging our already wind chapped skin. Clear blue water whistled below the bridge as it fled the scene. The world on either side of this bridge was far off and silent. "I know." I replied quietly. "Good, then I'm coming with you." "You can't." "You've tried that bridge once before," she replied smirking, "And look where it got you." At that I knew one thing hell or high water she was going to come with whether I liked it or not.


	3. Home and its abstract qualities

The overwhelming sent of hay floats around us. I say us because in the end inevitably Smellerbee got her wish. We're hitching a ride in the back of a trailer. The old man driving it was going to a small suburb about 3 miles outside of the city to the farmers market. We would have to walk the rest of the way. Neither of us is excited about walking but it was better than having to walk the entire 30 miles to Ba Sing Se. But for now the sight of the small town we'd almost called home was gently fleeting right in front or our shoes. Smellerbee sighs in her sleep and shifts her position slightly. I can feel the heat of her body threw the chilly air. The sun is setting on the horizon in front of us. Strangely the sight reminds me of The duke. He came to the freedom fighters when he was barely five. A rambunctious little wild child, who as Jet said probably never had a home. I stare back at the shrinking city as Smellerbee snuggles closer. And I realize then, some things you leave behind and some things you take with you on your journey. No one can carry a house with them no matter how rich they are.

And some people feel like home...


	4. Spiders

I watch the furry brown spider crawl slowly across the back of her hand. She gazes at with childlike curiosity. She's always had a knack for befriending the strangest and darkest of creatures. She sits on a window seal, the great expanse of the city sprawling out behind her. The darkness of the city is memorizing the few scattered lights dot it like stars. But the sky above is hidden under a thicket of gray-black smoke. We're safe from the turmoil of occupation in the bowels of the city, thank God, on the outskirts like this. Lonely though, the inn keeper was utterly surprised when knocked on her door. The inn is one of the fragile looking buildings that cling to the outer wall. But they're strong enough to withstand everything this wall's thrown at them so far so I don't feel we have much to fear.

I look back a Smellerbee, still playing with the spider. I suppose it isn't that strange for her to befriend a spider. Forced into corners and the outskirts of the world, both possessing a hidden deadly talent, under its top lip or up its sleeve. _Strangest and darkest._ I glance over at a mirror with a giant crack in it. Dark circles surround bloodshot eyes on a bruised up face. Suppose we're not alone in that too. "The itsy bitsy spider crawled up." Her singing is quiet and high like the sound of a tinkling bell. "The water spout down came the rain and washed the spider out. Out came the sun and dried up all the rain and the itsy bitsy spider crawled up the spout again." I sink back into the wall my hat falling over my eyes and wait for sleep to come…


End file.
